Monthly Examinations
by Felons Dictation
Summary: ONESHOT. Someone purposely hurts himself just to be alone with a doctor in the examinaton room.


You would think someone as talented of surgeon as Captain Pierce would be able to diagnose my medical condition, but no. We're sitting here in the examination room, the dank smell of the Cess Pool lingering in the air and stacks of specimens, bottles of plasma and gauze lining the rotting wooden shelves. The wooden floor also rotting along with the shelves, with dirt seeping and maggots crawling through the cracks you would never guess this was a medical room. Then it hit him, I'm guessing, for he said something like, "You have a minor laceration where the metal scraped you."

I came in for this examination every month, done by the same person, and the conclusion all the same. No matter how long it takes for this to get over with- precisely one hour and thirty-seven minutes- no matter how many times I have to button everything back up and down, no matter how many times I give my weight, height, and approximate sex, it's always the same. No matter how many times I spread eagle on the table, I can never get used to the smell of sweat lingering on the cloth, embedded in the wood.

"All right, bend over, turn your head, and cough," I heard the declaration and dropped my shorts, not having to be told twice. I heard the rubber glove slap against his skin and winced, I knew what was coming next like none other. I bent over slightly, feeling him put his hand on my back and push me down to a complete 90-degree angle. This hurts, but it's nothing compared to what's coming my way.

"When I saw cough, cough," he tapped my back rhythmically and I took a few deep breaths in, contemplating what I never thought I'd be able to get used to. Putting my hands on my knees, I breathed in a few times and heard that magic world, "Cough!"

And with that, I coughed and hacked and yet, the pain was still there. You see, coughing is supposed to release muscles, but nothing can prepare you for what's coming when you take those breaths and let out that cough. I heard him mutter something about my prostate being in tact and sigh, straightening myself back to a normal standing position. I.E, not being a perfect angle.

I reached down simultaneously and pulled my shorts back up, shivering slightly at the cold air creeping along the hair of arms, legs, chest, head… everything. "You do realize this means we're now engaged?" I asked my assaulter and smiled, knowing the words to come after.

"I could never marry someone that dresses better than the female sex," I heard him scribble something onto my file and I turned to him, "But I can never pass the proposition of sex." I smiled knowingly. Hawkeye was no one to turn down a proposition, especially not someone like myself, and somehow, he always did.

I had never once been turned down by someone in this camp, though I was lesser known than Captain Pierce. I didn't care much for chasing them; I let them come to me. Somehow, dressing in skimpy clothes attracts people… don't ask me why.

I jumped back to the examination table, knowing full well what was coming next. This was the best part of the examination, it really was. The part where I was told to get dressed and leave… well, after I got my Tetanus shot, for I "accidentally" cut myself on a shard of rusted metal. It was just another ploy, actually, to get back into the examination room.

I loved it in here, everything from turn 'your head and cough' to 'let me weigh you.' Because who examined me was always the same, who entered me with two fingers was all the same. Captain Pierce. That's all I have to say, for I know you can guess what I'm going to say next.

I like Hawkeye, a lot. I think it's the clothes that have gotten to me, but maybe not. Wearing women's clothes have made me for 'feminine,' yeah right. I'm bisexual, really. But the funny thing is, the only person of the male persuasion that tickles my fancy is Benjamin Franklin 'Hawkeye' Pierce.

So that's what I do, I hurt myself, or make up fake illnesses to be close to him, close to that raven hair streaked lightly with silver, close to those glistening blue eyes that dance with every word he says, the body of his that's so lanky, one would think he's a board but beautiful all the same. Be able to watch him furrow his brow in concentration any time he glances and scribbles with that doctor like script all over my file. To watch him take a hand and gracefully swipe his salt-and-pepper hair to the side, making him able to see more clearly.

I watched as he cleaned a patch on my forearm, preparing me for the intrusion of slick metal. "This won't hurt a bit…" He looked up and me and grabbed the elongated metal with a hole all the way through it's center, "If you don't look! Turn your head away!" I did as I was told, and began to concentrate on anything but the second intrusion of my body today.

I listened to the tickling of bells in my ears, the lowness of their tone speaking of everything but medical issues. Actually, I think he was telling me about a time when he walked in on Charles with a nurse in the shower, scaring the major half to death and shading a deep crimson red. I chuckled, and sometime during the story he had stuck me and poured the formula into my vein.

He put the cotton swab on the laceration and I folded my arm over it, containing the blood from running down my arm in all it's metallic glory. He looked at me, then to my clothes and nodded as he picked up my file and began to scribble again, he brow furrowing with every word written.

I smiled lightly, and stopped my staring long enough to pull my fatigues over my body. I had never been able to wear women's clothes to these examinations and I have no idea why. Maybe it made me seem less manly to wear those clothes to these meetings, maybe not. But, in any case, I would never wear the dress to see him in this dank room, poorly lit by that one swinging bulb hanging from the ceiling.

I sighed lightly as I tied my boots onto my feet. There was no way in hell that he would ever know of my feelings, but a part of me wished I could tell him. At least then I wouldn't be hiding and he could hate me, accept me, or even better, kiss me with those pale lips.

But, as we all know, what happens in the examination room, thoughts included, stays in the examination room. Never do my thoughts leave this room, when I walk out those doors, I'm section eight head to toe again. I'm not the man attracted to another man, and I'm definitely not the one that goes around trying to purposely hurt himself just to get back into this room.

In this room, I'm just Maxwell Q. Klinger, I'm not a Corporal in the United States Army, and I'm a man. A man that has sexual intentions and feelings for the raven-haired woman chaser, but that's honesty beside the point. And that's why I love the monthly examinations, because I'm just me when I'm in here. I don't have to be convincing to anyone about my being crazy, for all my layers come off with my clothes. I can just be myself.

"Well, Mr. Klinger," I looked back at the doctor who had closed my file, "I'm going to have a lovely interaction with an equally lovely nurse of the female persuasion." I wince slightly, hoping he didn't notice, and tried covering it with a smile, "I look forward to our next examination. I can't wait to see what you do to yourself next." With those words, he exits the room, swinging doors flapping behind him.

And for a brief moment, I can't help but wonder what he meant by the last words, if he really knew what I thought of him, what it would be like to be that nurse, and what I will do to myself next time.

I smiled slightly and took my steps to the door, stopping in front of it and looking back around the room where my thoughts will be left. The dank smells, the scattered medical supplies, the single table, and I can't help but think this is the only honest room of the whole camp. Here, all secrets come out, thoughts or otherwise.

I shook my head and pushed the doors open, taking my steps through and leaving Maxwell Q. Klinger- Normal Guy behind, retrieving the personality of Corporal Klinger- Section Eight.

I dug my hands in my pockets and walked in the warm Korean sun, heading towards my tent to change out of my solider suit. I smiled up at it, knowing that in Korea, there truly was beauty. For, as I looked up at the sun, it was setting over the mountains. It lit up the hillside brightly, the green grass and trees illuminating themselves along the native flowers of many colors.

I turned my gaze back towards my tent, running across the compound before anyone sees me in fatigues and gets the wrong idea. And as I open the wooden door, I glance towards the swamp, seeing the object of my current affections getting ready for his date, pouring food coloring into the swill and tapping aftershave around his neck in a frantic fashion. I smiled and opened my tent, taking my steps in and crossing to the rack of dresses. I sifted through them, and pulled out a sea-blue cocktail dress. I smiled again; it was beginning to come back to me. The feeling of being in a dress after a day in pants in priceless, you feel so free. I love the dresses, but pants are where I truly belong.

So, I have a feeling that the monthly examinations will become at least once every week.

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**A/N: **Hi! Hope you liked it, this was a work that came to me one day while I was setting up my camera to take some pictures of nature. I love it… It seemed so different to me. Mainly because it involves Klinger as a main character.

Review, please!


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